


Mirrors

by dramatichowell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone loves John, Fluff, I love him for it, Insecurity, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sentimental Sherlock, Sherlock is so confused, Teenlock, Work In Progress, this, what is love?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatichowell/pseuds/dramatichowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't mind being lonely and hated, it helps him focus on the things that matter.<br/>But when new kid John Watson moves to Sherlock's school, Sherlock's world is turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Kid

Sherlock wipes sweat from his forehead, smudging it with dirt and blood. His dark curls are plastered to his head and his limbs are tired and weak. He is lying in the dirt near the oval with ripped trousers and a shirt, that was once white, however is now caked brown and red. Almost like a cow on its day of slaughter.

Moran’s gang left unscathed when the bell went for class, unscathed expect for rather bruised knuckles. Sherlock never _intended_ to piss off Jim Moriarty, he had just expressed his knowledge about Moriarty and Moran’s relationship to the wrong person, resulting in Sherlock lying on the ground, bashed to a pulp and most certainly late to class.

 _‘Shame.’_ He thinks as he gingerly pushes himself to his feet, spitting out blood. Chemistry is the only class he actually thinks has some potential to be interesting in this world of utterly pointless learning activities.

Sherlock limps across the grounds to his locker and snatches up a change of clothes. Unfortunately for him, Sherlock has learnt to keep a spare set in his locker just in case, for this isn’t the first time the members of the bloody rugby team have attacked him.

Sherlock slides into the change rooms and strips off his clothes, stuffing them into his bag to be burnt later on.

He looks into the mirror and stares at his appearance, which stares back at him. His glasses are broken on his nose and his face is a ghastly white, making the drying blood on it stand out as much as his hair does on his pale figure.  His lip is split and his jawline consists of a rainbow of bruised flesh. From deep purples, to blues, greens and yellows. Tears start to appear in the corners of his eyes and he tries to blink them away, rather unsuccessfully. Sherlock takes in a deep breath and stares into the sink, spitting blood into it before looking back up at the ghost of a boy in the mirror.

The boy is ugly. His face is all odd angles and hollow cheeks, with cheekbones sharp as knives. His eyes are ice blue and his hair is almost jet black with crazy curls poking out everywhere like a raven’s nest.

Tears are now trudging their way down his cheekbones as he lifts his hand and smashes the boy in the mirror right in the face. The boy mimics his move and punches as well, causing their fists to meet and the mirror to smash. The boy disappears into the grey concrete wall behind it.

Sherlock runs the tap and washes his face and hands from the blood and tears before turning to head towards his chemistry class, trying to ignore the aching pain that is living in his muscles.

When he reaches the door, he is surprised to find Professor Stamford isn’t there yet. No one pays any attention to the bruises that cake his body. In fact, no one pays any attention to him at all as he quietly slides into his usual uncomfortable chair, keeping his head down.

Monday period one is always Chemistry and the class is buzzing excitedly about their weekends, about all the brilliant parties that Sherlock wasn’t invited to.

The door opens and Sherlock’s gaze flickers up to find Professor Stamford finally hobbling in, but he is not alone. At his side, is a small but strong looking boy, his blond spiky hair complementing his tanned skin and ocean blue eyes, which scan around the room, resting on Sherlock for a split second longer than anyone else before dancing around the room again. Sherlock blushes slightly at this, before quickly lowering his gaze again.

“Everyone, this is John Watson, he is new here so make him feel welcome, yes? Good.” Usually it takes months for a new kid to earn his place in the school, but Stamford turns to John anyway, “Alright Johnny boy, go sit over in the spare seat beside Sherlock would you?”

John nods and wonders over to the normally unoccupied seat next to Sherlock and flops down into it, flashing Sherlock a warm smile filled with boyish charm, causing Sherlock’s blush to deepen ever so slightly on his pale cheeks. Sherlock gives him a quick awkward smile back before staring back at his hands to avoid eye contact with the boy next to him. What on earth was happening to him?

Professor Stamford sets a task and leaves the students get to work while he ‘pops into his office to grab something’ (of course Sherlock knew he was going to have a wank in the teachers bathrooms, but that was something he decided not to mention).

The class talks loudly and surprisingly, John receives a lot of the attention, joking along with all the popular kids. Soon most of the class is crowded around him as he talks about his position in the national rugby team.

Sherlock feels uncomfortable having everyone gathered around his table as he doodles on the edge of his page. He finished the work within five minutes of Stamford leaving and is now awkwardly sitting in beside John while the class completely ignores him.

John then turns to Sherlock, as if sensing he were uncomfortable, “What about you Sherlock? What’s your story?” he says, eying Sherlock’s bruises.

Sherlock turns to John almost frightened, and opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Carl Powers, “Never mind that freak, he doesn’t do anything but sulk around. Do you think you could play for the school rugby team John? I’m sure Seb would love to have a guy like you on the team.”

John looks at Sherlock a little longer, with an apologetic look in his eyes. Sherlock just gives him a weak smile. John turns back to Powers, “Seb?” He questions.

“Sebastian Moran, rugby captain. He’s a bit of a jerk, you wouldn’t want to piss him off, Sherlock would know,” Powers adds with a smirk to Sherlock, “but he is a bloody good rugby player. We’ve never lost a game with him playing.”

John turns to Sherlock, “What happened? What did you do?”

Sherlock sighs inwardly and shoots Powers a look of hatred. Powers just laughs.

Sherlock nervously points at his bashed up face, “Nothing of importance…” he says quietly.

Powers then barks out another laugh, “Come on Sherly, tell us all what you said to Moran!”

The class pipes up as well, yelling at Sherlock to tell John. Sherlock stares in panic at John, whose gaze softens,

“Come one guys, I don’t care anyway. Whatever you did, you must have been super brave to do so Sherlock.” He smiles and Sherlock blushes.

“Or stupid.” Powers puts in and the class laughs as they all rise, deciding Stamford is not coming back.

 

\---

It’s been three days since Moran left Sherlock in the dirt.

Sherlock is sitting alone in his English class, watching a beetle waddle across the windowsill next to him. The open window is pleasant as the cool breeze tickles his face and the warm sun dapples across his cheeks turning them a light shade of pink with warmth.

His face has started to heal, and the bruises have lost their original dark colors, leaving yellow/green tinge to his skin.

The beetle struts over to his hand and crawls over it before continuing its seemingly useless path to Sherlock’s pencil case, stumbling on the pens that pour over it. The beetle looses its balance and flips onto its back, and begins thrashing its legs around helplessly.

Sherlock lightly places the pad of one of his long fingers on the beetle, which grabs it with its feet and clings onto it. Sherlock then slides the beetle back onto the table so it can stand again.

It almost seems thankful as it circles his finger before waddling around Sherlock’s table.

Sherlock lets out a sad sigh, his first friend since he was ten years old is a beetle he saved in his Year 11 English class.

He continues to watch the beetle before a fat thumb from in front of him squashes it. Sherlock nearly lets out a distraught cry when he sees his little friend die right before his eyes.

Sherlock glares up at Carl Powers, who is sitting in the row in front of him, smirking at the hurt he has caused.

Powers stands and leaves the classroom along with the other students, the bell must have gone off at some stage but Sherlock mustn’t have heard it due to his recent heartbreak. As the class files out, he is left to grieve over his lost friend. The little body is splatted on the table with a small amount of pale green blood seeping through the cracks in its armor.

 “Sherlock dear, are you alright?” calls a voice from beside him.

Sherlock tears his gaze away from the bug and stares at her blankly. Miss Jenifer Wilson is standing over him with a concerned furrow of the eyebrows. She has light brown hair that has been styled to perfection and she color coordinates her clothes. Today is a frankly alarming shade of pink.

“S- satisfactory thank-you.” Sherlock mutters as he scoops up his things and hurriedly exits the room. Once in the corridor, he makes his way downstairs and out onto the school grounds.

It’s a beautiful day, normally Sherlock couldn’t care less about the weather, but the sun calms him as he makes his way to a spot underneath a tree where he can sit in piece. Listening to the tree sigh as the light breeze ruffles the leaves above.

Sherlock enjoys it here, not many people bother him because it’s so close to the Head Master’s office window, and it always catches the sun no matter what time of day it was.

Sherlock gazes around at the students around him. To his left, there are a group of girls who haven’t eaten for three days judging by the color of their skin and nails, which all have a faint malnourished tinge to them. He roles his eyes, none of them are attractive in the first place, starving themselves is not going to help them out in anyway. The girls are trying to chat up two tall boys. They clearly cannot see that the boys are gay and have been shagging for the past two months.

Sherlock continues deducing student’s lives, occasionally letting out breathy giggles as he silently mocks the idiots that surround him. This is usually why he gets beat up. Sherlock has an unnatural ability to see things others cannot.

He simply observes.

Occasionally he will blurt out what he sees in his own defense, but it generally never gets him anywhere, he just gets called freak, and a jab to the gut.

He spots John on the oval laughing with his new group of friends, kicking around a rugby ball. John’s blue eyes are sparkling and his blonde hair reflects the sunlight like a halo. Girls watch him with interest as he smiles at them and continues playing the game. John is so focused on the game he doesn’t realize Moran sneaking up on him with a bucket of water. Sherlock watches as Moran tips the water over John. John turns around and laughs pushing the half empty bucket back at Moran who gets soaked. Moran stares at John for a second in surprise before his face morphs into what can only be described as a shark-like grin as he laughs along with John and playfully bats him around the head. Jim Moriarty watches from the bench behind them with an amused look in his coal black eyes, as he watched his boyfriend get drenched by the new kid.

Somehow, John has managed to win everyone over in just three days, even Jim Moriarty, who likes nothing more than bullying new kids.

Sherlock looks back at John, who has spotted Sherlock watching. He smiles and looks down at the wet shirt that clings to his muscular frame, then back to Sherlock shrugging. Sherlock grins and shrugs back as John turns back to Moran and catching the rugby ball, resuming the game.

\---

Sherlock blinks his eyes back to the present as he exits his mind palace and steps back into reality.

It was no use; love no longer was an element in his mental capacity, he’d deleted it when he decided there wasn’t actually any point in waiting for someone to love him, no one ever did. He had, in fact, deleted everything that remotely resembles love, like friendship. Most would say that this has left him heartless and cold. But in Sherlock’s opinion, it left him powerful and in control, sentiment only got in his way. If you asked him, sentiment is just a chemical defect found on the losing side.

Still, this action has resulted in Sherlock not knowing what on earth he feels whenever he sees John. John is a beautiful creature in Sherlock’s mind, he has an interesting brain which everyone seems to relate to and accept, making him a very loved character at school, quite unlike Sherlock, who is hated and lonely. So far, Sherlock hasn’t minded being hated and lonely. It allows him to focus on things that matter and actually have importance in life. Yet John’s personality has interrupted his ‘focus on other things’ and has made a home at the back of his mind, constantly nagging him for attention, like a spoilt child. Sherlock almost tears his hair out in frustration, stupid John is breaking his concentration and he doesn’t even know why.

His unruly curls dance over his forehead as he stands and pads over to the violin on his desk. Maybe the music will help him think, music usually calms his mind down. He places the base of the violin under his chin, looks down at the graceful instrument and gently places his long fingers over the delicate strings.

If you asked Sherlock’s mother (who currently lives somewhere in the country), you would be extremely lucky to see Sherlock’s violin. It would never leave his room, and would rarely be played when other people were home.

Sherlock has an odd way with music, fantastic, but odd. He knows how each and every one of the strings like to dance and how to make every single note quiver on the spot. If you listen to him play, the music will tickle your veins and make your hair stand up on end, just from the sheer beauty of the melody he can produce. It’s almost eerie to watch him play, yet beautiful as he dances around on the spot, cradling the violin as if it were a baby.

The music isn’t helping and all the John thoughts are distracting him, causing horrible sounds to erupt from the instrument.

Sherlock decides his mind is a place that needs effort and housekeeping. If the ‘John’ section is requiring attention, then so be it. John can have as much attention as he likes.


	2. A Step Forward

Sherlock is on the tube to school when he spots him. Of course he is here, he just has to be everywhere doesn’t he? Sherlock watches as John lifts his arm to grab onto the blue bar above him to stop himself from falling as the train begins to move, his shirt riding up in the process, revealing a small patch of tanned skin where his hipbone rests.

Sherlock blushes at the sight and attempts to shield himself from view by sinking further into his seat behind a little old lady, failing horribly as his tall lanky frame is hardly covered by her tiny body. He mentally slaps himself for being so socially awkward and not being able to talk to John, which is just what he wants to do. More like what he need to do.

Sherlock steals another glance over at John whose eyes reflect the light of the tube quite nicely, making them shine a deep ocean blue as he stares at nothing in particular. Sherlock decides he quite likes it. John momentarily closes his eyes and Sherlock almost feels deprived of the beautiful color before his automatic deductions kick in.

 _Bags under the eyes:_ _Sleep deprived, possibly 3-4 days without decent sleep_ **Reason?**

_Grip on bar is fairly steady: Been on edge for last couple of days, **Nerves?**_

_Left hand shakes slightly:_ _Intermittent tremor, **PTSD? Possibly.** Would explain sleep deprivation._

_No recent injury to prove reason. **Death of relative? Likely.**_

John’s eyes all of a sudden flicker over towards Sherlock, causing Sherlock to duck his head in attempt to hide again. Sherlock hears John chuckle momentarily before sliding over to peek around the old lady and at Sherlock.

Sherlock’s face flushes red with embarrassment as John’s eyes fall on him. “You know you’re not exactly a chameleon Sherlock.” John teases and leans against the seat opposite Sherlock. The tired look in his eyes temporarily gone. Sherlock almost tries to justify himself but decides against it by just awkwardly smiling at John, who smiles back instantly, causing dimples to form on his cheeks. Sherlock decides he quite likes them too.

“Do you normally catch this train to school?” John asks as the tube begins to slow as they near their stop. He stands up and gestures with his head for Sherlock to follow him to the doors.

Sherlock stands and nods his reply before raising his voice and adding, “Will you be catching it often?” as the loud speakers blurt out ‘MIND THE GAP’.

John throws him a smile as they jump off the train together, “I will now.”

Sherlock’s blush reddens and he takes the lead pushing through the crowd of people up to the escalator, John following close behind. _One of the advantages of being tall._

When Sherlock reaches the escalator, he turns back around so he can face John.

“How was rugby practice?” he asks casually.

John frowns for a second, “How did you know I had rugby training this morning? I don’t remember telling anyone… you haven’t bee-“

Sherlock almost rolls his eyes but decides against it, he is trying to impress John here, not frighten him off. “No I haven’t been following you,” he butts in, smiling briefly at John’s relieved look, “but you have recent grazes on your elbows and knees, that aren’t bleeding so they must be from something softer than concrete. They are also covered with green stains. Grass then.”

John stares down at his knee and smiles, surprising Sherlock momentarily, not many people smile at his deductions. “wow…and how did you know about the rugby part?” John questions.

This time Sherlock does roll his eyes, “Come on John, I may be socially awkward but I’m not deaf, I can hear the conversations going on around me.”

John laughs and shakes his head before looking back up at Sherlock, “How did you do that?”

“I saw it.”

“How? I didn’t realize I had grass stains on my knees and they are my own knees!”

“You see but you do not observe.” Sherlock simply stated, before realizing John might take offence to that, quickly opening his mouth to make an apology before he notices John smiling up at him.

“Ok smarty pants,-“

“John I do not own smar-“

“Show me what else you can do.”

Sherlock is stunned, John is not only impressed by his deductions, he wants to see more! Sherlock’s heart skips a beat, excitement and joy flooding into his chest. Two things he hasn’t felt in a very long time. Sherlock smiles before turning around to the sound of the man in front’s phone going off.

Automatically Sherlock blurts out, “Your wife has just texted you, her contractions have possibly started.” The man whips out his phone staring at it for a second before stepping to the left slightly to run up the escalator, pressing his phone to his ear without another glance at Sherlock.

Sherlock turns back to John with a smile.

“That… was amazing…” John stammers out.

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Piss off.”

 John giggles, “Show me more.” He demands.

Sherlock lets out a laugh that rumbles deep in his throat, as he reaches the top of the escalator.

Sherlock continues to deduce people’s lives out loud to John as they continue their journey to school, making John giggle the whole way.

When they finally reach the gates, John turns to Sherlock. He pauses for a second before asking, “Do you wanna walk home with me? I’d like to know a bit more about you.” he says with a smile.

Sherlock grins back, “I’d be honored John.”

John whips out his phone, “Here have my number, I’ll text you when I get out of class.”

\---

The whole of last period, Sherlock is sitting on the edge of his seat, heart pounding with excitement at the thought of getting to spend more time with John.

According to other kids, it’s times like these that time itself seems to slow right down just because you want to be somewhere else. Sherlock had always just dismissed this; time always went slow for him. But now, dear god it could not go any slower. He literally stared at the clock for what seemed like five minutes, waiting for the second hand to move.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and continues to make notes, which are really, quite unnecessary for him because he can just put everything in his mind palace, but at least it gives him something to do.

When the bell finally rings, Sherlock swings his bag over his shoulder, stands and leaves the classroom as quickly as he can to go find John. As he reaches his locker, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

**John Watson: At front gate :)**

Sherlock smiles at the text and makes his way down to John, smiling again for the millionth time that day when he sees John leaning against the fence shuffling his feet in the dirt.

It’s then Sherlock realizes; today has been the first day he has genuinely smiled in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok ok ok ok first off, I am SO sorry for being so slow at updating this, I had a lot going on in my life and literally no time to write, but I do have time now so I can update fairly regularly from now on.  
> Secondly, yes I am Australian and I have no fucking clue what you call an escalator in England so sorry again.  
> And thirdly, I don't know if I like this chapter or not, but I do have some ideas for the next couple so hopefully they will be better and a tad longer.  
> And finally, it would be greeeeaaaaat maaaaatttteee (my inner aussie shining guys) if you could leave some feedback to help me out.  
> Thanks so much, love y'all xxx


	3. Lakes and Pretty Sunsets

John slumps into the seat beside him and falls into a heap of exhaustion on the table. Sherlock (who was calmly studying for exams in the local library until John interrupted him) jumps in surprise before pushing his glasses up his nose and leaning back into his chair to stare at John, who currently is obscuring his maths book.

“How did you know I was here?” he asks his friend, who just mumbles something inaudible into the textbook waving one of his hands about. Sherlock continues to stare at John, who turns his face to look at Sherlock with tired eyes. He looks even more tired than he looked on the tube to school last week, since then, Sherlock and John had been catching the tube to school everyday and had actually become quite good friends, despite Sherlock being the most unsociable boy you could ever meet.

“John are you ok?” Sherlock asks quietly.

“I’m fine Sherlock, just tired from exams.” John replies giving Sherlock a weak smile. Sherlock however, returns John’s smile with an ‘I know you’re lying’ look. Johns smile fades and he lifts himself off Sherlock’s book and leans back into his chair.

“John… “

John glances at Sherlock, his blue eyes glimmering slightly with threatening tears. Sherlock quickly stands and packs up his things, throwing his bag over his shoulder before grabbing John’s hand and leading him out of the library. It’s only when he is halfway to the park that Sherlock realizes he is still holding John’s hand. Slightly surprised John hasn’t wrenched his hand from Sherlock’s grip, Sherlock blushes and lets go, continuing to lead John to the park.

“Sherlock where-…” John manages to splutter out.

“John I am talking you to the park.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because you need someone to talk to and I am attempting to be a normal human being, by taking you somewhere more private so you don’t have a breakdown in a public library.” Sherlock answers quickly, making John smile a little.

When Sherlock and John finally reach the park, Sherlock shows John to a large tree just in front of the lake where they both sit.

Sherlock then turns to John and quirks an eyebrow upwards, gesturing for John to explain what is troubling him.

John sighs and stares out at the lake, which shimmers as the sun reflects off it. Sherlock studies John’s frame for a while, and just when he decides John isn’t going to talk about it, John opens his mouth and blurts out, “My sister Harry, she drinks. One night at a party a couple of weeks ago, she got drunk and fell over, hitting her head on a concrete slab. Apparently there was blood everywhere so they took her to the A&E. They did some scans and apparently there is something really screwed up with her brain from where the scull hit the tissue. She is in a self-induced coma, which according to the doctors is not a good sign. They say she may never wake up…” he says chocking out a sob. He turns to look at Sherlock, eyes red and flowing with tears.

Sherlock can’t even imagine what John was going through. And the worst thing about it, is that Sherlock has no fucking clue what to do about it. He has never been the type of person to comfort someone in pain. To Sherlock, pain is a sign of weakness. But someone as beautiful and as kind as John should never have to go through this sort of pain, so Sherlock does the only thing he knows that will help.

Sherlock reaches over and puts an arm around John, pulling him close to his chest. John doesn’t protest and slots his head into the crook of Sherlock’s neck as he sobs into Sherlock’s t-shirt.

They remain like that for a while, normally Sherlock would be bored sitting in one place for this long, but this time he doesn’t mind, in fact, he relishes the feeling of John’s body against his.

John only lifts his head when the sun starts to set, turning the lake a bright orange and the sky pink. The tears on his face have dried and his eyes are red and swollen, but he is still the most beautiful person in Sherlock’s world. John smiles at Sherlock, who smiles back with a slight blush. John’s smiles always make Sherlock blush.

“We should head home.” John decides, standing and extending a hand towards Sherlock, who accepts it and is pulled to his feet.

“We should.” Sherlock agrees.

As they walk down the street, John is silent but he looks substantially better than he did before. When they get to Sherlock’s street, John turns and embraces Sherlock with a hug, “Thank you so much Sherlock… for everything.” He adds kissing Sherlock’s cheek, causing Sherlock to blush madly.

“No- no problem John…. anytime.” He manages as John smiles, waves and continues walking home, leaving Sherlock standing in the entrance to his street in awe, with a hand on his cheek touching the place where John’s lips met his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how I said I would update more frequently and that the chapters would be longer?  
> haha  
> sorry.  
> I tried but I am such a procrastinator.   
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter darlings, I can't wait to write the next one xx


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